


I must admit it, I would marry you in an instant

by samanthajane



Category: Ed Sheeran (Musician), One Direction (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-27 17:26:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7627345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samanthajane/pseuds/samanthajane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ed looks down, not following. Last year they were at a vintage fair near Harry’s place in London, Ed was bored and started a game where they had to surprise each other with dumb, over-the-top items. Harry bought him a big ugly ring for £4 and told him he had to wear it forever. It usually sits on his middle finger – this morning, it’s moved. </p><p>“What the fuck.” Harry mutters. <i>“Shit.”</i></p><p> </p><p>Or: A not-actually-accidentally-married fic</p>
            </blockquote>





	I must admit it, I would marry you in an instant

**Author's Note:**

  * For [colazitron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/colazitron/gifts).



> the world thought ed sheeran might be married for like a day so i wrote this ridiculous mess

“Harry. Wake up. I think I might be dead.”

Harry doesn’t respond. Nice to be cared about.

Ed mulls over going back to sleep, but he feels too disgusting now that he’s becoming aware of the awful taste in his mouth and the thumping in his head.

He untangles from the covers and drapes them half-heartedly over Harry’s back – Harry, who is face down on the pillow snoring, limbs everywhere. His hair looks all greasy and Ed starts to remember how late they stumbled back in here last night, he thinks they made a decent effort at fucking but passed out at some point. They’re ridiculous. Now Harry is just a blurry bundle of pale skin and rumpled blue sheets and crazy fucking bed hair – everything Ed has been missing the past few weeks.

Yawning and trying not to groan or whine in pain – this hangover is a fucking demon – he checks his phone.

“Harry.” He pats Harry on the shoulder weakly until he stops snoring and his breathing shifts. “We have the party today.”

Harry mumbles something into the pillow that would be unintelligible to most humans, but Ed is well-trained in Morning Harry so recognises it to be something along the lines of “that’s not for hours”. Ed’s impressed that Harry has any concept of what time it is or even where he is. It took Ed a solid five minutes to figure himself out this morning. Fuck his stupid friends and their idea to celebrate Harry being back for a few days. What was supposed to be 'a few drinks' turned into an all night session. Ed can't remember much, all he knows is that he's suffering for it now.

“I’m going to feed Graham and take a Nurofen. Or maybe throw myself off the roof. Haven’t decided yet.” He says as he begrudgingly pulls on some bottoms and stumbles over to the doorway. Harry grumbles something else that even Ed can’t decipher, so he just grins and heads downstairs.

 

//

He’s in the kitchen drinking one of two cups of coffee he made for himself when he hears Harry on the stairs.

“Do you remember getting back here last night?” Harry asks as he walks in, stepping around Graham at his feet. He’s only wearing underpants. Ed’s too hungover to fully appreciate it. “Because, I really don’t. Were we in a taxi?”

“Mate, I don’t remember much past about 11. Tequila is evil and I’m too old to get drunk.”

Harry laughs and comes over to steal a quick kiss. They’re both disgusting. They really need to shower before heading over to Jovel’s.

Harry hovers all up in Ed’s space and takes a sip of coffee, makes a face, and turns to fiddle with the kettle – probably making some herbal or fruit tea shit that he loves. The boxes of it sit untouched in the kitchen when he’s gone and Ed sometimes glares at them for making him miss Harry more.

Ed’s busy zoned out thinking about how disgusting lemon tea is and how Harry has to be on a flight at 8 tonight, he doesn’t notice Harry staring at him right away.

More specifically, he’s staring down at Ed’s left hand, currently clutching pathetically at his coffee.

“You’re wearing a ring.” Harry says, low and serious. His face is creased up like he's trying to remember something.

Ed looks down, not following. Last year they were at a vintage fair near Harry’s place in London, Ed was bored and started a game where they had to surprise each other with dumb, over-the-top items. Harry bought him a big ugly ring for £4 and told him he had to wear it forever. It usually sits on his middle finger – this morning, it’s moved.

“What the fuck.” Harry mutters. “ _Shit_.”

Ed takes another few moments for his stupid, probably-still-a-bit-drunk brain to catch on. When he does, he almost drops the mug he’s holding.

 

//

In the next ten minutes, three things happen:

1) Harry freaks out when he swears he can remember yelling about vows and someone saying they’re an ordained minister.

2) Ed freaks out when he sees that his friend Matt has posted a picture on their group chat of him and Harry hanging off each other with Harry’s face in Ed’s neck, the caption reads ‘Newlyweds’ with an array of emojis.

3) Ed decides he’s too hungover to stand and sinks down to rest back against the dishwasher and grumble out the word ‘fuck’ about 50 times.

Now though, they’re on the sofa dialling Jovel’s number on speakerphone. Harry’s feet are up in Ed’s lap and he’s biting at his hand nervously. Ed’s rubbing one of his ankles and saying that everything will be fine nothing could possibly be legally binding at this point. He’s imagining having to tell Stuart about this – if this even is anything. Ed’s never seen someone’s ears actually blow steam like a cartoon, but he thinks it could happen.

“What?”

Maybe it’s a best friend thing but Ed can tell from one syllable that Jovel is a) very busy setting up for the party and b) nowhere near as hungover as they are.

“I’m dying and me and Harry think we might have gotten married.” He blurts out.

“Are you fucking serious?” Jovel’s laughing.

“This is not funny, J.” Harry says, “We don’t remember.”

“You’re not married.”

“Why am I wearing a ring on my wedding finger?” Ed asks. He really didn’t drink enough coffee for this. He’s not sure there is enough coffee for this.

“Because you’re a couple of morons, that’s why.” Jovel says. “Harry, you don’t remember your proposal, man?”

Ed’s starting to have flashes of a lot of yelling and laughing and kissing and Harry singing the Elephant Love Medley at the top of his lungs. Although, in fairness, that’s really not that uncommon.

Harry groans. His face is covered by his hands. “How and why did this happen?”

Jovel laughs and laughs. Ed needs new friends. “You were testing out your acting skills – well, more like _we_ were making you test them out. Ed was playing your leading lady.”

“Of course he was.” Harry deadpans.

“We had a fake wedding for you dumbasses in Matt’s beer garden – you don’t remember? My speech was very moving. Except when I called Harry’s face the eighth wonder of the world, Harry yelled out ‘Ed’s dick is the ninth’, and ruined the moment.”

Okay, Ed sort of remembers that.

Harry looks at Ed and after a moment of neutral expressions, they both burst into laughter.

“I’m never leaving the fucking house again.” Ed says.

“Yes you are mate, your goddaughter’s birthday party is in three hours – scrub up and bring some snacks.”

He hangs up. And Ed thinks Harry’s breathing might have finally returned to normal.

 

//

“I just don’t see how you could have thought you’d gotten _married_.” Becca’s laughing. Ed’s helping her in the kitchen with all the tiny sandwiches and salad. He’s the godfather, he gets to do all the behind the scenes shit. That’s what he told Harry when he banished him outside to play with the kids because he’s merely a Generic Guest.

“I mean, sure, apparently you were pretty fucked up, but still man – that’s a hell of a lot to forget.” She says, shaking her head.

“I’ve had very little sleep and I’m very stupid.” Ed grins, making her laugh again.

He helps take everything outside and she gives him his own bundle of sandwiches with extra filling on them. Not all heroes wear capes.

When he’s making the rounds in the garden, his eyes find Harry – because of course they do. He’s crouched down talking to a couple of the kids enthusiastically. He’s wearing one of Ed’s t-shirts and his hair’s still all fluffy and sticking up on top, barely touched after his shower. He sneaks a glance and smiles over at Ed, eyes knowing.  He’s maybe Ed’s favourite thing in the entire world. It’s a crying shame they can’t go home to pig out and watch a film as is Tradition when they’re both feeling rough. But, movie star duties. It’s a tough life.

When Harry gets surrounded by a couple of Jovel’s friends and Ed hears them poking questions to him about the band and famous directors, he b-lines over to him, pretends he has something to show him and pulls him away gently by the arm.

“You’re a life saver, Sheeran.” Harry says, eyebrows raised.

“Hey, it’s your few-days-off, wouldn’t you rather spend it laughing at me attempting to get on that bouncy castle without J beating me up?”

“Definitely.”

 

//

“C’mon, there’s no way I would propose with that ring. It’s _atrocious_.”

Everyone’s laughing. They’re in sun loungers. Ed’s in the shade with a cap on and not enough sun cream. England shouldn’t be this hot – he came home from his trip so that his face wasn’t permanently fucking red but apparently London had other ideas. Harry’s eyes shine a little brighter in the sun though, so, that’s nice.

They have to leave for the airport soon.

“When will you be gracing us with your presence again, then?” Jovel says to Harry, his daughter asleep draped over his chest (being five is very tiring).

“Soon.” Harry promises. “Especially since Ed’s basically living with you guys.”

“Don’t fucking start, man. I either see the kid for ten days on the trot or not at all for months. Never changes.”

Harry laughs and Ed attempts a glare but breaks anyway. It’s not exactly a lie. They’ve been this way since they were teenagers, when Ed first came to London and latched himself onto J quick as he could. He’s been bringing Harry here since well before they were even properly together. Everyone loves him – because of course they do.

“I’ll definitely be here for longer nearer Christmas.”

“You guys planning a winter wedding this time?” Jovel grins.

Ed groans. “Give it a rest.”

 

//

“I’m just saying, if we did get married, I’d do it right.”

Harry has been rambling about weddings for approximately twenty minutes. Ed’s driving and only half listening to him talk about destination weddings being a sham and the origins of obscure religious traditions. He’s definitely perked up and transformed from the mono-syllable, grunting teenager persona he was working this morning. Ed prefers him like this – chatty and animated and sadly, about to get on a plane back out to set.

“I’d wear a really fucking nice outfit.”

“Let me guess,” Ed chimes in, “A fully sheer number? Or no, a lace Gucci tuxedo?”

Harry glares at him, Ed doesn’t turn to face him, but he can tell. “I wouldn’t wear Gucci on my wedding day. I’d probably go for McQueen. More royal, you know? Like Kate.”

Ed laughs. “No, I do not know. I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about.”

“Well, I’d look classy as fuck, let’s put it that way.” Harry says, grinning at him sweetly while he leans forward and fiddles with Ed’s radio.

“Would you pick out something classy for me too?” Ed asks, only half-joking.

“I could get you some very impressive dress shorts.”

Now it’s Ed’s turn to glare - he's wearing sunglasses, but he makes it work. “Fuck you.”

“We could ask Stevie Wonder to sing us down the aisle.” Harry continues, head lolling back against his chair as he ponders this imaginary event. “Wedding of the damn century.”

He reaches over the gearstick to pull Ed’s left hand up to his mouth and kiss the stupid ring that Ed has still not bothered to change back to his middle finger.

Ed scoffs. “Yeah, yeah.” He rolls his eyes and pulls his hand away. “Talk to me in five years, kid. Then we’ll do details.”

“Deal.”

 

//

When they’re pulling into the drop-off point, Ed gets that old familiar twist in his stomach.

“Right,” he says lightly, or trying to be, “This is as far as I can bring you without people noticing you and wondering why you’re snogging an extra from a Tolkien movie.”

Harry pulls him into a kiss; it’s soft, sweet and a little bit risky considering there are other cars around. Ed doesn’t fucking care. Without pulling away, Harry murmurs “I’ll be back in a few weeks.”

“So? What do I care?” Ed smirks over at him, “All you do is eat my food and turn my cat against me.”

“The perfect husband,” Harry grins, sorting all of his stuff at his feet.

“Whatever, Styles. Go flirt with some hot older actors.”

“Will do!” Harry says with too much enthusiasm, and then he’s out of the car with his weekender bag slung on his shoulder. He turns back for one last smile and laughs when Ed gives him a little salute from where he’s hunched over the steering wheel.

Ed sighs. He’s so completely gone for him, it’s a fucking joke.

 

//

Messages: Jovel

**I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry**

**Google yourself**

 

Messages: Harry

**YOU'RE IN THE NEWS**

**congratulations hubby**

_if you ever call me that again the honeymoon is cancelled_

 


End file.
